Grand Social Experiment Update: Fail. But Still Trying.

Four months in to the Grand Social Experiment, and my mini-me and I are the two who struggle the most with the not-buying-stuff pledge.  And Target is still my crack house.

I broke down twice in the past month.  At the Festival of Faith and Writing last April, surrounded by books and writers and words and stories, I bought a book.  One book; that's all.  I almost couldn't help myself; it was like it called out my name.  My Festival roommate Joovie didn't help at all, telling me I absolutely had to read it.  It's The Soul Tells a Story: Engaging Creativity With Spirituality in the Writing Life, by Vinita Hampton Wright.  So far I've only read a few pages, so I can't yet tell if it will alter my brain chemistry and change my life.

Then last week in The Crack House I found myself purchasing three plain light-weight cotton t-shirts for $6 each.  I justified the purchase by telling myself that my existing t-shirt stock is getting a little raggedy because I wear some combination of t-shirts every single damn day of my life.  My favorite, a black Chico's tee with 3/4-length sleeves literally has holes in it.  But I know that this was mere rationalizing.  I didn't need the new tees, per se.  If I wanted to stick to the literal pledge, could retire the holey one, and get by wearing my other t-shirts for another eight months.

I have not heard boo from any of the other Peevies about the pledge--except for M. Peevie.  This girl, like her mother, likes to buy stuff.  Plus, she has more disposable cash than anyone else in the household, and it is burning a hole in her pocket.  Mostly she wants books--but she also requests specialty clothing items, like rain boots (not strictly necessary, but have you seen how cute they are?), and art supplies like notebooks and markers.  We have so many notebooks and markers in our house already that we could open our own art supply store.

Mr. Peevie has saved the day in the book-buying department by taking the kids to the library regularly, and even managing to return our books on time so that we don't inadvertently purchase them.  M. Peevie has been whipping through chapter books like nobody's business; A. Peevie is working his way through the seven or eight Harry Potter volumes; and C. Peevie has discovered the Firebird anthology series of fantasy short fiction collections.

So we're plugging onward in our quest to become more aware of our consumerist mentalities, more grateful for what we have, and less influenced by whim and culture to buy stuff we don't really need.  If you ask the kids, and even M. Peevie, I think they'll tell you that it hasn't been too hard so far.  Clearly, that is not the case for me -- but my excuse is that I've been nurturing my inner Material Girl for 48 years now, and it's a hard habit to break.

Resolution Recap

Following in the footsteps of my blog-friend Elbee, I will update the 2010 resolution situation:

1. Listen to new (i.e., new to me) music. SUCCESS! This month I've listened to Wyclef Jean (before he started raising money for Haiti), Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Ben Folds. I'm so "with it."

2. Work out on Wii Fit two or three times per week. I have learned several yoga poses, and not one of them is named the "lunging lemur." I have met my goal of doing WiiFit at least twice per week, but I have to say--I am not a fan of the abuse my WiiFit trainer (whom I have named Vincent) dishes out.

"So," he says, with an edge of sarcasm in his voice, "You haven't been able to make the time to work out for the last four days. Been busy?"

"Yes, Vincent," I tell him, hanging my head as I step on the WiiFit balance board.

"Ooh!" it says, wincing under my weight. "You've gained 1.2 pounds since your last workout," the lying slab of plastic tells me. "You now have 3.2 pounds to lose to meet your goal."

Fine. Whatever. It's not about the weight, I tell myself. It's about being healthy. It's about having pants that fit.

Then when I start doing the poses and/or exercises, it tells me, "Oh, E. Peevie, you're a bit wobbly! You need to work on building your core muscles."

Sometimes I trick the Wii into thinking that I'm totally fit and have perfect balance. I use a chair to do some of the poses so that I don't actually hurt myself--and Vincent tells me, "Hey, baby! You're pretty strong and fit! Are you free Saturday night?"

3. Write my book. Let's see. I think I have written a total of 2,000 additional words this month. This pace is not going to get my first draft, or even my first several chapters written, before I head to the Festival of Faith and Writing in Grand Rapids in April. I must pick up my pace.

4. Take my sin to the cross, over and over again. Why is repentance so hard? It's so good, and it feels so good--it's like working out: it feels so good when you're done. I have not improved in this area. Fortunately, repentance and forgiveness are, by their very definition, always available, waiting, unchanged in their power to change me.

I will go to the cross. I will write my book. I will work out. I will listen to new music. It's not too late to begin, to start becoming a New Me.

How are your resolutions going?

Resolutions 2010

It's hard for me to come up with a bunch of resolutions with a half-empty pitcher of white Russians sitting on the window sill next to me. But I realize that my loyal Green Room readers are waiting with bated breath for a New Year's post, so here goes.

My resolutions for 2010:

1. Listen to new music. One really great way to stay in touch with my kids is through music--but probably not through Dan Fogelberg and Boz Scaggs. I'm just sayin'. My kids have already introduced me to some enjoyable music that I would otherwise never have encountered, like Human, by The Killers.

2. Work out on Wii Fit two or three times per week. That might sound lame to you marathoners and extreme fitness freaks--but for those of use who enjoy the sedentary lifestyle, it's huge. I may alternate with a bit of drumming on Rock Band II, however. I'm sure that'll burn the calories just as much as a lunging lemur or whatever the heck the yoga pose is called.

I've already created my Mii, and the stupid game has informed me that I am obese. I prefer to think of myself as Rubenesque, or pulchritudinous, or zaftig. However, I do realize that my bones and muscles and internal organs could stand for me to be a wii bit more active. (See how I did that with the "wii"?)

3. Write my book. I don't know if I'm a writer--a real writer--or not. But I have to give it a shot. I'm heading up to Grand Rapids for a writers' conference (maybe I'll see you there?), at which I hope to find inspiration and a publisher.

Here's the thing. I'm terrified. I know I can tell a story with a modicum of appeal. I know I can sustain interest for 800 words or so. But 40,000 words? For a wanna-be-writer with undiagnosed ADD, mood swings, mild depression, and a teensy case of OCD (I swear this is true, even though my therapist insists that you can't actually have a "teensy case of OCD"), it's like a guy with no arms and no legs looking up at Mt. Everest with the summit in his heart.

4. Yesterday Reverend Moses Butcher reminded us that "Resolutions don't have the power to change you." This could be problematic in a post about resolutions -- except Rev. Moses Butcher was talking about sin, of course, not about things like using music to connect with your kids, using an insulting electronic toy to have a slightly healthier lifestyle, and putting words down on paper because some part of me believes that another part of me has something worthwhile to say.

Sin is something I know a little bit about. (If "sin" is not in your vocabulary, you can think of this as personal responsibility.) I often fall short, far short, of the person I want to be. I'm far too sarcastic with my children. I'm irritable, impatient, and self-centered, and self-righteous. I frequently put my own needs and desires ahead of the needs and desires of other people.

I don't want to be this way--but I see these behaviors in myself over and over again. So instead of resolving to behave better, to sin less, to be more Jesusy--which will only lead to failure and despair--I will instead resolve to take those sins and carry them, like Pilgrim in John Bunyan's beautiful allegory (a Christian classic, which, if you haven't read it, I recommend that you resolve to do so this year), to the cross, and dump them out there, over and over again.

This is the gospel; this is what has the power to change me.

What are your resolutions?

New Year's Resolutions

I love the start of a new year. I love the optimism, the clean slate, the fresh start. I love the ridiculously vain hopes that the new year engenders—hopes for healthier choices, healed relationships, new or renewed hobbies, personal improvements, spiritual growth, new adventures and expanded horizons—hopes for an Extreme E. Peevie Makeover!

I always feel a little sad when people say they don’t make resolutions. I wonder: is it because they don’t want to fail? Is it because they have had their hopes dashed one too many times? Are they content with themselves and their lives so much that they don’t feel the need to resolve to grow or improve? Are they tired, or cynical, or maybe just disinterested?

I realize that not everyone is like me, but I cannot understand why some people don’t feel inspired by the blank page of a brand new year. Maybe it’s the word “resolution” that puts them off. Perhaps that word is too demanding, official, or even cliché. How about hopes, goals, dreams, or plans? C’mon. Give it a try.

What will you do different in 2008?

In the past I have resolved to

• Learn to juggle. (I did.)
• Read all the Pulitzer prize novels. (I’m about 1/3 done.)
• Read through the entire Bible. (Gave up several times.)
• Run a marathon. (I did.)
• Finish a triathlon. (I did.)
• Become a better pray-er. (Still working on it.)
• Learn to knit. (Got bored and quit.)

So here we are at the dawn of a new year. What huge emotional, physical, and spiritual goals will I set before myself in 2008?

Ah, fuggedaboudit. I’m too tired. And what’s a resolution going to change, anyway? It’s just a word. It’s not like it’s got power or anything.